The last snowfall — take two

If you look closely you can see the snow coming down on a diagonal.
If you look closely you can see the snow coming down on a diagonal. March 24th.

I was only kidding when I said it was the last snowfall on March 6th. Today is actually the last snowfall.

March 25th in the morning.

And it’s been a nice snowfall so far, if snowfalls can be considered nice and not-nice. It’s not sticking to the roads yet, as you can see in the top left corner of the photo. And we didn’t get nearly the 4 to 7 inches the weather forecasters were  predicting.

March 25th.

The snow is blanketing the trees and ground with a soft white layer,

March 25.
March 25.

turning the views from our windows into picture postcards. Mother Nature isn’t finished painting with white apparently.


And that’s okay. I have the flag my mother made that I found at my parents’ house, still on the pole, and that I hung on the first day of spring to remind me what season we’re in.

I’m going to enjoy the snow while it falls. It is the last one.

I made it to March

It’s March. Halleluia.

I’ve been through some dark days in December when we found out Mom had cancer throughout her abdomen. Then we found out it was advanced, incurable pancreatic cancer that had metastacized. Then her oncologist told us she had maybe 4 to 12 months to live if we provided nothing but comfort care. In retrospect, that amount of time would have been a joyous gift.

The second day after we found Mom’s cancer was a very dark day when Dad started having breathing problems and we called the ambulance to take him to the hospital. As I watched his monitored blood pressure drop and listened to doctors talk about a massive infection and sepsis, I prayed Dad could hold on a little longer. Mom needed him now.

When I pushed my dad in his wheelchair into the dining hall at his new home in the nursing care facility a week later and he started to cry when he looked around and saw the company he was in, it was a very dark day indeed.

But there were darker, pitch-black days to come. I am still not able to write about it and the vivid memories that continue to plague me at unannounced times during the days.

In fact, I have difficulty writing about anything at all right now and getting my brain and my fingers on the keyboard to cooperate.  Yesterday’s “After Mardi Gras” post took me much longer than it should have to write. But I feel more comfortable talking about non-emotional things right now, and that’s where I think I should focus my efforts.

Someday maybe I’ll share the days I’ve spent at Mom and Dad’s house, emptying drawers of memorabilia, sorting, judging, saving or throwing away their life’s small scraps of treasures. But not today.

Today it is March, even though it is still dark outside at this early hour, and even though there are snow flurries in the foreast and a high temperature prediction of only 37 degrees. I know there will be days of spring this month.

Last year my post on this date, Welcome March, oh month who brings sweet spring, received the honor of being freshly pressed. This year I am barely slogging through. This month I have a birthday to get through without the annual arrival of flowers from my mother. So many things to get through that lie ahead.

But today is March. And March gives me hope.

Welcome back garden

Welcome back garden.

It’s time to go brown sedum, faithful garden keeper through winter’s cold.

Welcome back gazing globe, shiny bubble that glows with sunlight.

Hello sweet woodruff,

my bleeding hearts,

and shy columbine.

Clear away your dry skirts, daylilies.

Climb to the sky, Jacob’s ladder.

And bloom again pure daisies, simple flower of my heart.

Sweep away the leaves, angel who guards our path, and surround yourself with green.

Rise up small owl, fallen to rest, and stake your claim.

Stand up and face the sun, little light that shines in night.

Bloom bright daffodils, bloom.

Welcome back garden. We’ve been waiting for you.


See more posts about gardening in my series.

Welcome March, oh month who brings sweet spring!

The birds were singing outside my window when I first opened my eyes this morning.

I love March, even though we’ve been known to have freezing weather and snow in this third month of the year here in the Midwest.

I love March, because it is the herald of spring. And even if winter’s chill fingers still grip the earth, spring will not be held down.

We had tempestuous, stormy weather here a couple of days ago, which in three out of four years might have been the beginning of March.

I’m hoping Mother Nature forgot it was a leap year and that March rode in on that lion so it will go out like a lamb.

Oh happy day! March is here.